


Smoke, fire, it's all going up

by cheshire_carroll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Lily Evans Potter, Dark Lily Evans Potter, F/M, Implied Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape Friendship, One Shot, Slytherin Lily Evans Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 07:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18006203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshire_carroll/pseuds/cheshire_carroll
Summary: When the Sorting Hat tells her she is brave, Lily thinks of trying to get between her drunk, spiteful mother and crying sister. When the Hat labels her daring, she thinks of standing up to Severus's daddy when he broke his son's nose right in front of her. When the Hat calls her chivalrous, she thinks of punching one of Tuney's pig classmates in the nose for calling her sister sexist names. When the Hat suggests that she'll fit in well in Gryffindor, Lily almost laughs."Put me in Slytherin," she tells it, "or I'll set you on fire."





	Smoke, fire, it's all going up

_"Smoke, fire, it's all going up_

_Don't you know I ain't afraid to shed a little blood?_

_Smoke, fire, flares are going up, flares are going up_

_Oh, won't wave my white flag, no_

_This time I won't let go_

_I'd rather die_

_Than give up the fight"_

—White Flag (Bishop Briggs)

*

*

It starts on a train. Or perhaps it starts several years before that, when a lonely boy reaches out to a lonely girl and turns her world upside-down. It is, after all, from that point in history onward that a young Severus Snape and Lily Evans will go on to form a friendship ( _a_ _love)_ that has the potential to bring down a Dark Lord ( _or help him create the Darkest dynasty in Wizarding history_ ). But before that, years and years before that, there is a train.

Because it is on that train that those two children strike up a particular conversation, as the now not-so lonely Severus tries to cheer up the now not-so lonely Lily with an exclamation that they are off to Hogwarts at last.

As it often does with students on their first Hogwarts Express journey, their conversation quickly turns towards speculation of their future Houses. Severus tells Lily he hopes she'll be in Slytherin, which prompts one of the other boys sharing the compartment to speak up. This boy has to him that indefinable air of being well-cared-for, even adored, that the other two children so conspicuously lack ( _brittle smiles, thin wrists, the ever-present shadows of sleepless nights; they are both twins of circumstance, the unwanted children of Cokesworth_ ).

"Who wants to be in Slytherin?" The boy says scornfully. "I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

_No_ , of course not; Lily thinks to herself incredulously, immediately disdainful of the spoiled child who is so utterly clueless of the priceless value of the opportunity they have all been gifted.

Because she knows _better_. She knows the vicious bite of hunger and the loneliness of isolation both. Like many children from Cokesworth, she's a latchkey kid; the sort of self-sufficient child who's half raised herself in a world that spares no thought or care for children with hollow cheeks, frayed secondhand clothes and poverty-stricken parents with hard, lined faces and tired ( _and angry; at themselves and at the world_ ) eyes, who are so rarely home.

Lily's mother works double shifts as a housekeeper for the wealthy and her father is away most of the year, travelling for work. Her big sister is petty and spiteful, resentful of having to act as parent to her younger sister, and Lily's natural beauty and intelligence, both evident from a young age, do very little to make her popular amongst her peers, more often turning her into their victim instead.

Meeting Severus had changed everything for Lily. He was _just like her_ and, suddenly, Lily hadn't been the freak, the oddity, the disturbing ( _frightening_ ) child. She was, _is_ , a witch. And to a lonely girl who felt she didn't belong, that she was all alone in the world, that hand extended in friendship had meant _everything_.

With parents who were absent more often than not, the heavy weight of her sister's resentment in their home and the bullying at school by peers making her a target for their own inferiority complexes, it was little wonder that she didn't want to be separated from her best friend, her anchor in a world so indifferent to her personal trials, the only one who understood her.

When the Sorting Hat tells her she is brave, Lily thinks of trying to get between her drunk, spiteful mother and crying sister. When the Hat labels her daring, she thinks of standing up to Severus's daddy when he broke his son's nose right in front of her. When the Hat calls her chivalrous, she thinks of punching one of Tuney's pig classmates in the nose for calling her sister sexist names. When the Hat suggests that she'll fit in well in Gryffindor, Lily almost laughs.

"Put me in Slytherin," she tells it, "or I'll set you on fire."

She'd set Mr. McCarty's precious motorcycle on fire the year before, after he'd squeezed her thigh during Church. She and Severus hadn't been able to look at each other without bursting into exhilarated fits of giggles for hours afterwards.

In fact, her earliest memory of accidental magic was of setting something on fire, back when she was just three years old. She had been locked outside her own backdoor and left standing in snow that had been steadily piling higher and higher, her teeth chattering so hard she'd been convinced they were going to shatter in her mouth and she'd choke to death on the pieces. She couldn't remember how long she was out there, only that it had been light at first but the sun was long gone.

In the case of most magical children, the accidental magic would likely have unlocked the door for them. Lily was never 'most magical children', however, and her magic didn't respond unconsciously to her desire to be inside— it responded to the bitter anger that had been building up inside her along with the snow around her, because _it wasn't fair_ and she _did not deserve it_ and she was _so, so cold_.

Her mother had to call the fire department. The investigators blamed 'hooligan teenagers' for starting the blaze that set the backdoor of the Evans house on fire; they never thought to suspect sweet little Lily. And Lily did not forget that; she never forgot the power of an innocent baby face, of big doe eyes overflowing with tears and a wobbly lip.

She might be brave and daring and chivalrous, but she is also cunning and ambitious and vindictive, all traits she values _so much more_ because they're _useful_ and useful is important for not just surviving, but _thriving_.

Besides, Lily has no intention of ever being separated from Severus; they're both going to get out of Cokesworth for good, and they're going to do it together– she'd promised they'd always be friends and she meant it. Let the gods have mercy on any who dared try to interfere with that, because she will give none.

"SLYTHERIN!" shouts the Hat.

Lily meets Severus's eyes where he's still waiting to be Sorted but so certain of where he'll end up, sees his thrilled face and she grins.

*

It's not that easy, of course. She wasn't really expecting it to be; nothing in life worth having ever is. A harsh lesson, but one Lily learned long ago at the hands of an uncaring mother and in the absence of an indifferent father.

She is not welcome in Slytherin. It is abundantly clear in everything her new House does, from the lack of applause after her Sorting to the cold shoulders of her new dorm-mates. It's in the sneers and upturned noses, the hexes and jinxes aimed at her back and how Severus is the only one who'll talk to her, instead of just spitting out a " _filthy_ _Mudblood!_ " in her direction.

It's lonely, isolating and demoralising; a constant battering on her self-worth and internal strength— fortunately, growing up with her mother had given her more than enough practice for dealing with all of the above.

There are several "ring leaders" in her torment that Lily and Severus quickly identify and learn to avoid.

Worst of them all is the sadistic, unhinged Bellatrix Black, a fourth year whose curses are always aimed towards inflicting pain, not humiliation, and leave Lily burned, bruised and bleeding if she's hit by them while Bellatrix cackles and mockingly calls out for her to " _run, little mousie, run!_ "

Cold, hulking Travers is a sixth year who likes to make the younger students cry– she and Severus are targeted equally by him, as are the halfblood Slytherins in different year levels and both the "Mudblood" and halfblood students from the other Houses.

Last is cruel, sneering Yaxley, who prefers extreme humiliation, such as hexing her kneecaps backwards during her second week and then leaving her to hobble with Sev's help to the hospital wing. 

They want to break her and Lily wants to laugh at them, because _they_ _don't know how_. They treat her like she's unwanted; a burden, a disgrace and utterly worthless, but this is nothing new to her, nothing she hasn't experienced her entire life.

Her _dearest_ , _darling_ _mother_ , Marigold "Marie" Evans, had very little time for her children– and that was just how her daughters preferred it. The rare (but not rare enough) occasions she wasn't working, Marie preferred to spend her time with a bottle of sherry, something that was never a good thing for her children. Marie had sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, both made worse by drinking and both turned freely on her daughters when she indulged– she rarely laid a hand on either of the girls, but she'd ruthlessly pick at them and tear them apart with cruel words that cut to the bone and left them bleeding in places that pressure couldn't be applied to stem the flow.

Marie was never "mama" or "mummy", not that Lily could ever remember. Marie was "yes, Mother" and "of course, Mother" and "at once, Mother". Marie was bed without supper for the smallest indiscretions, she was practicing sitting for hours with a straight back, primly folded hands and legs angled just so, or standing facing the corner of the kitchen in punishment until exhaustion made the world blur. Marie was the hot stench of sherry-laced breath, the sharp sting of a backhand to the face, the choking shame that turned her weak, and _never-good-enough, you-are-useless, stupid-worthless-girl, you'll-rot-here-in-this-shithole-too_.

Heath Evans, her father (and the parent Lily had inherited her thick, dark red hair and green eyes from), was mostly just a gap in her memories. He was home maybe a week or two every few months; a time that would always be filled with closed doors, Marie's shrill raised voice, smashed glasses and puddles of sherry soaking stains into the floors and walls (stains that Lily and Petunia would have to scrub off later) interspersed with long, cold, sullen silences.

Compared to tiny, delicate five-foot-nothing Marie, a slim woman with porcelain-fair skin, fine blonde hair and light blue eyes who had been considered beautiful before time and poverty had worn her down, Heath was a towering wall of bulky muscle and hard, grim lines. He'd been as handsome in his youth as Marie had been beautiful, but the Second World War had damaged him, had greyed his hair and deadened his eyes and left him gaunt and haggard (and dead inside in all the ways that mattered).

Heath had very little to do with his girls. Lily had always pretended she didn't care– better no father than a second _Marie_ ; or, even worse, a father like Sev's, one who was constantly giving Severus and Mrs. Eileen new cuts, bruises and even broken bones– but her father's absence and lack of care left its own wounds, deep ones carved alongside those left by Marie ( _unwanted-unworthy-unloved_ ).

Even with all Petunia's unfair resentment and spite crushing unfairly at her, it was hard for Lily to dislike her sister; not when she remembered Tuney's silent tears as Mother spat that she was ugly and bony and useless, that no man would ever want or love someone as pathetic and worthless as her, not when she recalled all the times Petunia would cry bitterly on her knees while scrubbing sherry or picking shards out of the carpet from half-empty wine glasses thrown at her head. Not when, while Lily pushed Marie's "lessons" to the back of her mind whenever her mother was out of sight, poor Petunia stuck religiously to Marie's words, grimly determined to become the perfect little lady and marry a wealthy man, only for Marie to always mock her efforts as _useless-pitiful-inadequate-pathetic-hopeless-hopeless-hopeless_.

The Slytherins could hate her, could try to crush her down, but Lily had learned at a young age how to bend without breaking. She'd learned how to shrug off the hurt, smile sweetly through the pain and never let them see her cry. She'd learned how to be subordinate without being submissive, how to be meek without being mild, how to be beaten without being broken.

She'd learned how to bide her time, to patiently wait for her opportunity to strike, and to never settle for anything less then she deserved.

Lily Evans had learned how to survive and thrive and _win_ against the odds, and she intended to do just that with her best friend at her side _always_.

*

Lily takes one month, three weeks and six days to snap. Later, looking back, she'll be impressed with herself, both for having lasted so long, and for blowing up so spectacularly. At the time, all she can see is red.

"You all go on about how foul and violent and awful muggles are, but you're not the ones who have to deal with them!" She screams at her most recent tormenter, Burke, who is now slumped on the ground, a growing pool of blood around his head– she'd sent him flying into the wall after he tried cursing her from behind. Her face is flushed almost as red as her hair in her rage and even though they're all pretending otherwise, she's acutely aware that she's managed to turn the attention of the entire common room over to her as she screams; at Burke, and the rest of them too. She just doesn't care.

"It wasn't you pureblood witches or wizards who were killed by muggles, back during the Middle Ages and during all the witch trials– it was muggleborn children, unable to control the magic they knew nothing about and left to the mercy of muggles until they were of school age!" She snarls, vicious and filled with vitriol. "Muggleborns side with Dumbledore's lot because all of you make them feel so bloody unwelcome! More often then not, their parents are terrified of them and they come to Hogwarts looking for some sort of acceptance, and because you all shun them while Dumbledore and his flock welcome them with open arms, they give that loyalty to him! You could have that, you could have that sort of worshipful, blind loyalty but you're too short-sighted and you waste it! And maybe our blood isn't as pure as yours, but we've still got magic and we can still do lot of bloody damage with that magic!"

Lily casts her fierce gaze around the struck silent common room– well, silent except for the pained moans of Burke– with her small fists clenched tight at her sides. It's Bellatrix Black who breaks the silence, tipping back her head and cackling.

"The little mouse is showing her teeth," she coos and Lily bares her teeth at the older girl in a sharp, hard smile, quick and mean.

"Even mice bite when backed into a corner." She retorts and Bellatrix grins back, bright, wild and toothy.

"Sharp little fangs for a clever little mouse. Or maybe not a mouse, after all." The older witch stands from where she was sprawled over one of the leather couches and prowls over to Lily, casting a dismissive look at Burke as she does. Her pale, slender hand lashes out and seizes Lily's chin, tipping her head forcibly up so the younger girl is forced to meet her sharp gaze. For all her playful crazy, Bellatrix's eyes are calculating and considering, a hard gleam of intelligence shining bright within the grey.

"You're not wrong," she says, finally. "Muggles are vicious, dirty animals, but most of us don't have to go near them. You do. And you do know better then most of us what they're capable of."

"Cruelty," Lily spits bitterly, thinking of the taunts, the snide gossiping, Mr. McCarty's wandering hands, the bruises on Severus and Mrs. Eileen, her own sister's frightened eyes– so much worse then any of the spiteful, hateful words she could have said.

"Good thing we can be cruel too, then," Bellatrix purrs, her grip on Lily's chin tightening to the point of pain. "And I think you know a bit about that already, little girl– but I can teach you how to use all that delicious anger lurking behind that pretty face of yours. I think you could make a good experiment; let's see if you can rise above your unfortunate roots and be a proper little Slytherin."

"And what do you want?" Lily asks, with all the wariness of a child who knows nothing came free in this world. Bellatrix smirks.

"You talked about loyalty, little mouse. Why don't we start with that? While you're mine, nobody will touch you– but you will be _mine_."

"Severus too," Lily says fiercely, "or no deal." Bellatrix's grip tightens again, her nails digging harshly into Lily's skin.

"Careful, mouse," she warns. "I'm the one doing you the favour."

"Slytherins stick together," Lily retorts stubbornly. "And Severus is mine. It's both of us or neither of us."

Bellatrix tilts her head, releasing Lily's jaw. Lily can feel trickles of wet warmth sliding down her neck and Bellatrix lifts her hand, curiously examining the red smudges on her nails and fingertips. "I can't see any mud there," Lily says defiantly before she can stop herself. Bellatrix smiles.

"I don't know." She muses. "There's not really enough there for me to see properly. Maybe I should cut you open a bit, get a proper look."

"Only if I can return the favour," Lily smiles sweetly, ignoring the rush of fear, the taste of it hot and metallic in her mouth. "That way we can compare properly."

Bellatrix laughs again, sounding almost delighted, before she spins around to give the mostly silent, definitely staring common room full of Slytherins a wide, unhinged smile. "Snape and the little Mouse are mine now," she tells them all. "Touch them and you'll be the one I'll get my Mousie to practice her curses on. Understood?"

They understand. And Lily _laughs_ (because if she doesn't, she'll _cry_ , and she'll _never_ give them her tears).

*

Severus is furious with her, of course. The bruises and little scabs on her jaw don't help, but with Bellatrix lounging over them like a territorial panther, lazy and vicious and terrifyingly unpredictable, he doesn't dare say anything until they retreat to the old, unused alcove where they'd hidden their brewing materials. "What were you thinking?" He demands, cold and furiously angry. "Do you realise what she could have done to you? How badly she could have hurt you? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I was sick of being scared all the time!" Lily hisses back at him. "I love magic and I love Hogwarts, but I'm terrified of my housemates cursing me and I'm terrified of them cursing you! I'm barely sleeping, I'm having nightmares every night, my belongings keep getting stolen or cursed or destroyed and I've had a headache for nearly a week straight now from the stress! I'm so tired, Sev– something had to change or I'd have gone crazy, I swear!"

"That was the most Gryffindor thing I've ever seen in my life," Severus tells her, and Lily relaxes, seeing how the anger is easing out of him, replaced by relief and pride, and she smiles, tremulous but real.

"Well, the Hat did say I'd fit in well in Gryffindor," she tells him. Severus reacts poorly.

"The Hat said what?" He demands, bristling, his dark eyes flashing with rage, and Lily laughs, leaning in to wrap her arms around him.

"Don't worry," she tells him, with a smirk that's pure Slytherin, "it put me exactly where I belong."

*

Years later, Bellatrix will take her and Severus to a secret meeting hosted by a tall, pale man with dark crimson eyes and a face that can only be called striking. He wears plain black robes, but power cloaks and crowns him and Lily shivers at the touch of his magic in the air. 

She listens to his recruitment speech, her hand never leaving Severus's, and at the end, when most of the attendees leave, Bellatrix instead pulls her forward, to meet the Dark Lord face-to-face.

Lily has never been more terrified in her life.

"What do you think of mudbloods, Miss Evans?" The Dark Lord asks her after she bows to him, his voice silky and sibilant.

"I think I am proof that we are capable of rising above our muggle roots if given the opportunity," Lily answers, very careful not to react to his subtle mocking baiting of her, which is in all likelihood a test. She's squeezing Severus's hand now so tight that she's likely in danger of crushing the delicate bones but she can't quite make herself loosen her grip, try as she might, not with the terror sinking through her like shards of ice. 

"A clever answer," the Dark Lord drawls, his crimson eyes pinning her in place like a mouse before a king cobra. "And do you have a solution that is just as clever?"

"Remove them from their muggle families as soon as possible, from the first time their accidental magic is detected," she answers him immediately. "On average, that's around age three or four, usually no older than six at the latest. Whether the muggles wish to part from the child or not wouldn't matter– their minds should be wiped to prevent complications. Magical children belong with their own kind."

"And what would we do with them then?" The Dark Lord arches an expectant dark brow at her and Lily resists the urge to hyperventilate.

"It's an observed fact that witches and wizards have issues with fertility," she says carefully. "Large families are considered unusual. Perhaps the children could be placed with appropriate pureblood families as... wards, of a sort. The family would be responsible for the care and education of the child, feeding, clothing and teaching them the proper ways before they attend Hogwarts, and in return the achievements of the child would reflect on the family. It should be a voluntary process on the part of the family taking in the child, but... I feel it would be an investment that would likely pay off, as the children are likely to feel indebted to the families for taking them in and strive to excel in an effort to repay them."

Lily takes a deep breath after she finishes speaking, her mouth dry and her heart thundering behind her breast. The Dark Lord is quiet and the silence weighs impossibly down on her.

"It's an intriguing idea." The Dark Lord says finally. "One of the biggest issues with mudbloods outside of their threat to the secrecy of our world is their nasty habit of destroying the Old Ways by imposing their muggle celebrations on our millennia-old traditions– and the Ministry just buckling under their demands, not wishing to upset them with our 'outdated' ways in fear of their retaliation, the ever-present threat of the exposure of magic. Your idea, though in need of fine-tuning, addresses this issue. It also addresses the risks of creating a second class of citizen, one that would give Dumbledore and his people a cause to rally around," here he sneers. "Magic is Might and mudbloods do have magic, it is a fact. And as you said earlier, you are proof of what mudbloods are capable of, when given proper influence."

The Dark Lord leans forwards, his voice sliding like smoke in her ears, twisting around inside her brain as his _red-red-red_ eyes threaten to swallow her whole. "Tell me; Lily, Severus," he says, quietly, barely a whisper. "Tell me, if that was the future I promised you, would you fight for me? Would you live and kill and die for me? For your vision of the world, our world, would you be mine?"

Her fingers entangled with Severus's, her eyes hopelessly trapped in the Dark Lord's, all Lily can do is hold on to her best friend as tightly as she can and try not to drown.

"Yes," Severus says beside her, his voice low and fervent and almost-desperate. "For Lily, yes."

*

(It starts on a train, and with a Hat, and when a lonely boy reaches out to a lonely girl and turns her world upside-down.

"Put me in Slytherin," that lonely, lost, loyal, loving girl tells the Sorting Hat, "or I'll set you on fire."

And so the fate of the world changes)

*

" _Yes_."

*

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone who's read this has also read 'The Anti-Heroine', then you'll know that Lily gives Voldemort the same solution for muggleborns as Hermione has. This is because I actually wrote this first, and decided to use it for Hermione instead, then I finished this and decided I actually wanted to post it and didn't want to change what I'd already written.


End file.
